freedom ain't nothing but missing you
by sydneysages
Summary: Because Christmas inspires different things in us all. Drabble per day, leading up till Christmas! 22. TeddyVictoire 23. JamesiiMollyii 24. Albus 25. LorcanRoxanne
1. Gingerbread

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>I – 1st December<br>James II  
>gingerbread; linger; possibility; tree<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

"See you later," Lindsay smiles seductively as she drops something into his hand, her sapphire blue eyes locked in on his before she turns from him.

The smell of her perfume lingers in the air as she walks away, James finding his eyes unable to move from where her figure has disappeared around the corner. She's caught him under her spell, he realises, caught him to the point where he's intoxicated even when she's gone.

Finally, his attention is brought back down to the thing that she gave him, the thing that he almost managed to forget about.

It's a small gingerbread man, a reminder of their time together in the past when they were both young, naïve first years and he donated one of his gingerbread men to her because she felt lonely.

As he looks at it, he can't remember seeing anything that's filled him with as much hope before, given him the notion that there is perhaps a possibility for something here.

He smiles ever so slightly before following in the direction she went, dropping the gingerbread man into his pocket as he walks, planning on savouring it later.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	2. Chimney Smoke

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>II – 2nd December<br>RoxanneScorpius  
>chimney smoke; tremble; quest; lucid<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

She's rebelling against the system, rebelling against her family, her heritage, because all she wants is to be recognised for _her_. she wants to be seen for what Roxanne is like, not face the incessant comparisons to both her cousins but also her aunts and uncles and everyone else.

All Scorpius wants to do is the same; he wants nothing to do with the idea that his family have traditionally been the enemy because all he wants is to be himself.

They're on the same quest for equality for _themselves_, so, with a trembling hand, they twist their wands at the same time, allowing a substance akin only to chimney smoke to cover their respective hair. It's thick, sooty and opaque, causing their hair colour to become obscured.

And, as it disappears, their other hands link together as they turn to look in the mirror, both of them brunette now, no longer red or blond.

They're the same now, both internally and externally. And this is what, Roxanne thinks, will get her through the next bout of struggling to become herself.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	3. Icicle

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>III – 3rd December<br>RoseTeddy  
>icicles; eternal; midnight; spin<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

Icicles adorn the side of the house as Rose leans against it, the tears on her cheeks hot against the icy winds. They cause her to shiver uncontrollably in the flimsy dress she's wearing, yet she doesn't care because this is the moment where her heart breaks forever…

He's inside and he doesn't seem to care that she's disappeared into the cold because he's happy with _Victoire_. Oh so perfect Victoire, the one who gets all she wants – and she wanted Teddy, so of _course_ Teddy fell for her. he wouldn't fall for the girl who has loved him since she was seven, _no_, he _had_ to fall for the girl who loves him but gets everything she wants.

It's supposed to be a time of the year that's happy, that Rose spends with her family and just enjoys life.

Not this year.

Her attention locks in on the icicles and she begins to see the resemblance to her heart; they're both ice cold, frozen, emotionless…and able to be broken. Soon, the icicle shall cease to exist, just as her heart shall loose all purpose.

An almost laugh escapes her mouth as she realises the futility of her feelings because he's _never_ going to leave Victoire for little Rose, is he? He's not going to leave the brainy supermodel for the girl who just got the brains, so why imagine that he will?

The village church clock chimes as she realises that it's midnight, that it's Christmas Day now and she's the most miserable that she's ever been.

Some Christmas, eh?

~x~

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_Vicky xx_


	4. Mistletoe

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>IV – 4th December<br>VictoireLysander  
>mistletoe; sky; crimson; daft<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

"You have to kiss me, Victoire," Lysander says to his older, almost cousin with a teasing smile on his face. His long, blonde hair has daft streaks of a food colouring crimson in colour because little Lily poured it on him when he wasn't looking.

She blushes and shrugs her shoulders, her eyes locking on the sprigs of mistletoe hovering above their head. It almost blends into the darkening sky, merely a shade or two lighter she decides, and it's the thing she loves about Christmas the most.

It's a silly tradition that they, in the Weasley household, have mistletoe that moves through the air and lands on unsuspecting people, just as it has tonight.

"Go on then," she smiles, her teeth glistening in the darkness and he can't help but laugh.

His lips press to her cheek for a fraction of a second before they're interrupted by the calls of Rose that they're all to go inside for the opening of the pre-Christmas presents that Uncle Charlie sent, so, with a glance back at the sprig of mistletoe already moving on, Victoire walks back to the Burrow, Lysander by her side.

Who knows who the next 'victims' shall be?

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	5. Carols

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>V – 5th December<br>Lily Luna Potter  
>carols; grass; forgive; doomed<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

Her eyes stream with tears as the sound of happy carol singers in the distance reach the orifice for hearing. They torment her with the unmistakable sounds of happiness, of joy…of _togetherness_.

She sits alone upon the sated grass, more mud than grass if she's honest, and continues to stare at the graves of her parents who lie six feet beneath the ice cold, solid ground upon which she is situated.

Her gaze moves to the left, then to the right, where the bodies of her brothers lie – her entire family, dead, in one blow.

It was an accident, they said; she had been at her friend Lindsay's house when her family were driving home from the Muggle shops to buy _her_ Christmas presents. It wasn't her fault, they said, yet they do nothing to stop her sitting here, blaming herself.

"Please," the one word that is uttered from her lips is a plea for forgiveness, barely audible over the raucous laughter of those who still have something to live for.

_Help me_.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	6. Snow

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>VI – 6th December<br>Lucy & Teddy  
>minute; threshold; aching<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

"_Stop it_, Teddy!" she squeals for the fifteenth time as her older cousin, almost, tickles her continually in the snow. It all started with snow angels before she then teased him about him and _Vicky_, resulting in the attack of the tickling.

"Not until you say that you don't know nothing," he contradicts himself as he speaks but he knows the little girl won't notice – she's too busy laughing ridiculously hard.

"I know nothing," she looks so innocent that he falls for it, letting go of her to flop back in the snow…

…until he gets hit in the face by a snowball perfectly aimed by Lucy.

"_You love Victoire_!" she screeches loud enough for all the other Weasley children in the vicinity to hear. "_Teddy loves Victoire, Teddy loves Victoire_!" she continues to chant with an evil smile on her face as she retreats back from Teddy.

Squealing for a good few minutes more, Lucy runs from Teddy, refusing to stop repeating it until he makes her promise all over again.

And he falls for her innocent act…again.

.

They finally make it back to Lucy's house at around 6pm, by which time their bodies are aching and they're looking forwards to their Boxing Day dinner, little Lucy's hand wrapped tightly round Teddy's as he takes her inside.

"Today was awesome!" Lucy laughs as she tells her parents about what they did. "Oh and I didn't know if you know, but Teddy loves Victoire."

The race that ensues around the house isn't something that neither Percy or Audrey _ever_ want to happen again.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	7. Ornaments

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>VII – 7th December<br>MollyLorcan  
>ornaments; queen; eyelashes; ode<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

The movement of her eyelashes fluttering catches his eye and he's unable to move for a second as his brain instantly begins to wonder if she's thinking about him. He knows it's most likely ridiculous because, well, why would _she_ be thinking about _him_, but he can't help it.

The makeup on her skin is comparable to ornaments in the living room of a grand house, unneeded because her complexion is already the fairest in the entire school. She's more beautiful than every single one of her cousins, the beauty on both the inside as well as on the outside.

She's Queen Molly to him, someone with no flaws and is universally loved. He doesn't know anyone who doesn't at least _like_ her – even the Slytherins – whilst he's the badboy of the school, the one who is on the edge for expulsion because of his lack of work ethic.

He's unable to comprehend the flaws she _must_ have as a human being because he's so utterly in love with her, the most popular girl in school, and he can only see the perfection she shows the world on the outside.

Somehow, he wrenches his gaze from her face and looks back down at the piece of paper in front of him, not covered in the Transfiguration notes it ought to be, but rather an ode to how much he loves Molly Weasley.

.

That night, he goes and slips the piece of paper into the folder of other things he's written for her, yet hasn't managed to find the courage to give them to her – because he's the badboy of Hogwarts and she's the ruler, so why would she be bothered about having the knowledge he loves her?

He doesn't think she'd care.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	8. North Pole

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>VIII – 8th December<br>Rose  
>north pole; trepidation; vague; catch fire<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

It's colder than the North Pole as Rose runs down the street in merely the flimsiest dress she owns, no coat or anything, even though it's Christmas Eve and there's ice on the pavements. She almost slips a dozen times yet doesn't care, simply allows the tears to slide down her face without ceasing.

"Rose!" she hears her name being called, yet she doesn't turn around, doesn't turn back to see Scorpius running after her. "Rose! Wait! I can explain!" he continues to yell for her to come back, yet he's falling further and further behind…or she's just blocking him out.

Her red hair fans out down her back as it slips out of the perfectly coiffure it was in before, creating an impression of her body catching fire, just like her heart is on the inside.

It's all a bit vague to her now as she tries to catch an edge of her thoughts, tries to remember what she saw in there… Dominique, Scorpius; it's all blurring together now, but she's got the clearest image of Scorpius being on top of her _cousin_.

And then she's reaching her limit, unable to think of it anymore because it hurts too much to recognise that her boyfriend, her dear, perfect Scorpius, cheated on her with her cousin on _Christmas Eve_!

So she runs and she runs, trying desperately to leave behind the pain but it clings tightly to her, not letting go no matter how hard she tries to suppress it.

She slips on a pile of snow and falls into a gutter, her dress blending in and leaving behind merely the vivid red colour of her hair, alluding to the impression that the pavement is catching fire.

Somewhere in her mind, she knows she should stand up, yet she doesn't have the strength to do so. And so she curls up into a tiny ball and cries, not moving a muscle as the coldness laces into her body without a warning.

But it's a distraction from the pain and she's thankful for this as she begins to drop off, swearing she can hear her name being called in the distance yet not caring because her eyes lock onto Polaris, the star of the North Pole, and she remembers that things are so much bigger than just her and Scorpius.

Her eyes close slowly, the last thing she can remember being the sweeping constellation of stars that project from the sky downwards as she drops off into a state of being neither dead nor alive.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	9. Snowman

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>IX – 9th December<br>Albus & Scorpius  
>snowman; dragon; struggle; beam<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

"Do you think she likes me?" Scorpius asks his best friend, Albus Potter, as they sit down together on the ground outside The Burrow. Whilst Ron wasn't particularly pleased about a _Malfoy_ being at the Christmas get together, every other adult overruled him and therefore Scorpius, part of the new age trio of mischief, is here.

"_Who_ likes you?" getting distracted by his little sister trying (and failing) to build a snowman, Albus hasn't a clue what Scorpius is talking about.

"_Rose_, Al, have you not been listening to me?" Scorpius snaps in his usual 'as if you've not been listening to me' tone Al often has aimed at him. He just gets distracted _so easily_, sometimes by his girlfriend, sometimes by the work they should be doing in lesson and now by his sister.

"Oh yeah," Al replies slowly, his attention distracted once _again_ by Fred knocking Lily's snowman over as he tries to catch the model dragon that he found in Al's house. "Well, I guess she probably does, since she stopped shooting you dirty looks at the end of first year," he concentrates on the conversation for a minute, deciding that reassurance is probably the best idea rather than winding him up.

"You think?" Scorpius' reply is just _too_ innocent for Al to deal with, a beaming smile on his face the thing that gets Al to reply.

"Well, yeah, I mean she's _quite_ well aware of the fact you're gay and don't want to chase after her, so she's got no concerns about appearing slightly friendly," he tries this approach and watches as Scorpius' face scrunches up in anger.

"_WHAT DID YOU TELL HER?"_ Scorpius yells.

Al struggles to keep a laugh in but fails miserably, just as Grandma Weasley calls them all in for dinner.

"I'm joking, Scor," he replies as they walk towards The Burrow. "She's been waiting to see if you like her back for _ages_…I just didn't know how to tell her you did."

Needless to say that the ridiculous pace Albus took back to the house was _not_ down to his desire for food!

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	10. Bells

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

_Hugo is pre-Hogwarts age whilst Rose is in her 2nd__ year at Hogwarts._

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><p>X – 10th December<br>Hugo & Rose  
>bells; vivacious; cursed; morning<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

Bells ring out from the local Muggle church on the morning of Christmas Day, yet the Weasley children don't hear them. They're too absorbed in opening their multitude of presents, ranging from a child's broom for Hugo (from Uncle Harry, who else?) to the complete works of Transfiguration through time for Rose.

Later in the morning, the arrival of a grey owl at the window causes Hugo to groan; in the past, the appearance of an owl has been a curse. It's meant that either one of his parents – or both – have been called into the Ministry to deal with some emergency along with Uncle Harry…but not today.

The groan that escapes his lips is a direct opposite to the squeal of joy he let out merely half an hour ago, as the owl deposits an extremely expensive looking envelope in his hand.

Yet, this time, it's not addressed to either one of his parents; it's a letter for Rose and the handwriting looks like that of a child.

His intrigue sparked, Hugo begins to open the letter, the devilish side to his being a little brother drawn out as he wonders who the letter is from. Finally into it, he skips through the extremely long letter to read the name of the person who has sent it-

"Don't you _dare_ open my post again!" Rose shrieks, the peace of Christmas being disturbed in their section of the house, as she rips it out of his hands.

"You love Scorpius," naturally, Hugo is more than gleeful as he states this, the glee intensified by the rising of a blush in Rose's cheeks.

"Do not."

"Do."

"Do not."

"Do."

"Do not."

"Do and I'm going to tell Mum and Dad."

Hugo runs off downstairs to the kitchen, Rose following in his wake, shrieking for him to stop and to _just think_ about what he's doing.

"What is it, Hugo?" due to the day, Hermione is under the impression that he's simply hyper as her son runs into the kitchen dancing around.

"Rose loves Scorpius."

Needless to say, Ron refuses to speak to his daughter for the entire day, her response therefore being to instigate a huge food fight at Christmas Dinner which has the result of Hermione insisting that next year, they are both to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because she just _cannot stand_ to have them here again.

All because of a little letter.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	11. Stockings

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

_Warning: character death._

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><p>XI – 11th December<br>DominiqueLysander  
>stockings; vast; taking chances; wind<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

The wind howls around Dominique as she tightens the scarf wrapped around her neck, the frigid December air seeping through into her clothes into her skin. The thin stockings on her legs do nothing to protect her from the cold, so she seems to shrink further into her coat as she observes the huge, great waves crashing down onto the shore in front of her.

The vastness of the ocean seems merely to reaffirm her beliefs that she should be able to take on whatever she wants, that taking chances – like _Lysander_ did – is the way forwards. But she doesn't _want_ to; she's always been afraid of the sea, afraid of allowing her life to be put into the hands – well, waves – of another being, even though it's inanimate.

She's always preferred the safety, the reassurance, of the land, the way that she's always able to control her own destiny…to a point. She was able to control _her_ destiny, able to control what she did, yet she couldn't control what others did. She still can't.

It's still impossible for her to go back through time and stop her hen night being on _that_ night, still impossible for her to save her Lysander from curses _she could have prevented_…if only she were present.

And so she stands on the beach, looking out at the sea, and merely sees the opportunities she's missed in being cautious…even though being cautious has gotten her nowhere. It's the thing that's caused her to no longer have her Lysander, to have lost the love she loved forever.

So, even though it's sub-zero temperatures, she makes the decision to shed the blanket of safety, the thing keeping her clammed up inside, and she wades out into the waters, the shivers spreading through her body linked more to her tears than her body's temperature.

It's experiences anew and she's so _thankful_ she's done this, so thankful that she's done something that that outgoing Lysander would have done if he were here. And it doesn't matter that she can't swim as she moves further and further out because, well, _he's_ by her side and he doesn't seem to be leaving her.

The water is cold, yet strangely inviting as her head dips beneath the surface time and time again, regaining its position above the gleaming, yet choppy water for mere seconds.

As _he's_ there.

.

She floats back to shore later that night, her skin translucent and tinted blue, her eyelids closed with her lips slightly open.

They're shaped in a smile.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	12. Reindeer

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>XII – 12th December<br>Fredii  
>reindeer, charity, dive, lost.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

Because youth brings naivety, a chance for the children to be able to experience everything they can without there being limits.

That's what Fred Weasley the second tells himself anyway, as he looks back on his four year old self, having been reminded of this particular memory by his parents at his wedding reception.

Fred was four years old when his parents decided to take him and Roxanne to Australia for Christmas; the winter was long and cold in England that year, and after the hullabaloo that surrounded Fred's near death by his inquisitive side regarding their pond last Christmas, George and Angelina decided to take their family away from England.

And naturally, since George was involved, they had to go as far away as possible.

So, everything was hunky dory, Fred remembers as he looks back with a grin; they had settled into their hotel and had decided to go to Taronga Zoo because there were some interesting animals there, some that the twins wanted to see.

Well, Roxanne did – she wanted to hold the koala bear. All Fred wanted was cake – and he still _wants_ that cake, twenty years later.

Anyway, they headed into the zoo and everything was fine; they fed some of the kangaroos and Fred got some ice cream as the shop didn't sell cake. Roxanne got to hold the koala bear – eight years old, called Rosie – and everything was pretty good.

Until Fred saw the antelope.

Because he was so young, he got a little confused.

And he had mistaken them for reindeer.

It was a pretty easy mistake to make, Fred thinks as he looks back, to this day defending his actions in regards to the stampede of the…reindeer. He was scared that the reindeer's presence meant that Father Christmas wasn't bringing the presents, as the reindeer should have been at the North Pole.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE?" Fred shrieked, throwing the bucket of feed in his hand at the reindeer before diving in the opposite direction then running away from the enclosure.

His parents were so stunned, they told him, that they didn't realise they had lost him until a good hour later, when Roxanne asked where he was.

During this time, Fred remembers with a grin, he had spent the time sitting in the elephant enclosure, desperately hoping for his magic to come so that he could write to Father Christmas and tell him that he had been a _good_ boy since he had gone exploring in the pond…and since he had levitated a fake pile of poo in a charity shop…and dyed Professor McGonagall's hair blue.

.

Four hours after this time, Fred was found, alive and well but _very_ distraught that Father Christmas' reindeer were still there.

And, to this day, Fred Weasley remembers that moment of pure horror and knows he will _never_ go back to that zoo, for fear that he would make the same mistake again!

~x~

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><p><em>Sorta weird…I know.<em>

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_Vicky xx_


	13. Gloria

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>XIII – 13th December<br>LouisRoxanne  
>Gloria; dazzle; dream; grey.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

She wants to be dazzled by the lights of the camera bulbs flashing as they take pictures of her doing absolutely nothing of consequence, taking pictures merely because she's _famous_. She wants the glory of being able to wear the dresses made of gloria, a beautiful, silk-like material that she thinks only _famous_ people can wear.

It's a dream she's had for years, one so shallow that she never dared share it with her family because they all _hate_ the spotlight, wish they could just be normal.

And then there's Louis.

She's loved him for years and she's so _happy_ that he finally asked her out, that he understood her subtle hints about being in a relationship, because the whole brooding hot look is so amazing.

And he's so sweet, so perfect on the inside – and hot on the outside – but he's dark, dark and depressive, looking on the darker side of things. He's a pessimist, someone who lives for the dark and gloomy days, when grey seems to be the only colour he sees.

She wants the bright lights, the booming music, the chance to share her smile with the world who clings tightly to her to know _everything_.

He wants peace and quiet, a chance to brood things over, for their relationship to be private.

And therefore she's forced to choose between fame and Louis, between her relationship and her dream.

Roxanne's a _shallow _girl, darlings; which one do you _think_ she chooses?

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	14. Christmas Rose

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>XIV – 14th December<br>LilyTeddy  
>Christmas rose; enchantment; imprint; believing.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

He hands her a rose and, somehow, he has her believing that she's in a fairytale, that she's Princess Aurora and he's her Prince Charming. He has her thinking that they're the rulers of the world, the ones who control their own destiny, even down to breaking the spell.

(She's always loved that fairytale)

She can't help but blush, a dusky pink colour rising in her cheeks, and he lifts one hand to run a finger along the skin above her cheekbone. His face crinkles into a smile and she envisions them dancing, sweeping and twirling around a ballroom, fluid movements that leave everyone else stunned.

His lips press to hers and, for a moment, her attention drifts back into the enchantment world, when Prince Charming kisses the Princess.

Then she's reminded that this is _her_ fairytale, that Teddy is her Prince…and here, here she gets to be a Princess. In his aquamarine blue eyes, _she_ is a Princess.

"Merry Christmas, sweetheart," he whispers as she stops kissing him to look back into those brilliant blue eyes, ones that always show her what he's thinking.

Then her lips press to his again, slowly and softly, an utterly beautiful kiss.

(After all, how can you end a fairytale without a kiss?)

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	15. Blizzard

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>XV – 15th December<br>Hugo&Dominique  
>blizzard, poison, glass, firework.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

It hurts her to have to do this at Christmas because it's supposed to be a _happy_ time of the year, yet it's impossible for Dominique to keep it together any longer. It's like a blizzard of uncontrollable emotions that rock her every second of every day, tormenting her without relent, plaguing her thoughts.

Her dreams turn to nightmares almost as soon as her body falls into unconscious, his black eyes burning holes into her brain, causing her to scream and fight and lash out at the empty bed beside her because _she caused it_.

It was _her_ that killed Hugo, really, when she was supposed to be looking after him when he fell in that pool. _She_ was supposed to ensure that he was fine but, no, she had to be more concerned with her own life.

Even three years later, she's beleaguered with those moments, burdened with the intense agony that she killed him, even though her family seem to have moved on.

Her hand shakes slightly as she holds up the glass vial of poison that'll do the job, the liquid that will end her life forever. She doubts anyone will notice; she's not really involved anymore after _that day_ and nobody bothers to pop by anymore.

Beneath her other hand is her final letter, the piece of paper upon which all her explanation for why she had to do this is, and she hesitates for the briefest of seconds as she wonders what her parents, her _sister_ will do without her.

Then her mouth opens to allow the poison in, a bitter taste that's almost rejected by her body and only isn't through her sheer _desire_ to die.

It's like fireworks going off inside of her, sending shooting pains through her limbs as her body begins to shut down from the outside, sending every fibre of life into the core to try and prevent the inevitable.

Her eyes roll back as she finds herself dropping to the ground, the pain already beginning to ease – but not the physical pain, no; the pain that eases is her guilt over Hugo, her regrets for her entire life, and it's going as she does.

Then all vitality is lost from her body, a glassy sheen covering her open eyes as she lies on the floor, limbs splayed, her skin flawlessly cream, brown coloured curls fanned out behind her head.

_Dead_.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	16. Cookies

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>XVI – 16th December<br>TeddyVictoire  
>cookies; key; ribbon; indecisive.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

A smile slips onto Victoire's lips as she feels an overwhelming sense of success at her baking of cookies; for years, she's been unable to make the treats at Christmas, the pressure of getting them right always resulting in her burning them.

Well, apart from _that_ year, when she thought she'd made them right, after being more than slightly indecisive with her timings, then she ended up giving Teddy salmonella through the eggs being old.

"They're ready!" she calls through to the other room, Teddy emerging with a cautious look on his face. "What?" she asks him indignantly, her hands slipping onto her hips in a stance of disbelief.

He shakes his head, reaching out for her free hand as he tries desperately to stay away from the cookies – or at least wait a few hours after someone _else_ has eaten one, just to see if they're going to kill him.

(Baking isn't Victoire's strong point, okay?)

"Nothing, babe," he replies, sighing internally as he sees her hand reaching out for the tray to hand him something he presumes will be black and burnt, as per usual.

Unfortunately for him, however, the cookie is a golden brown colour, a ribbon of chocolate covering the top delicately, and it smells so _good_. But does he dare try it?

Her face expectant as she waits for him to try it, he hesitantly lifts the cookie to his lips and bites into it, expecting a gooey mess or something along those lines inside…but there's not. It's perfectly cooked.

For the first time he can remember, Victoire has made a perfect cookie at Christmas.

"Delicious," he states, scoffing down the cookie faster than she could have thought possible. "Love you, baby."

She's about to speak when his lips press to hers suddenly, the taste of cookie on his lips, a crumb of still-warm biscuit sticking on her lip, the key to her knowledge that she _has_ made the best cookies _ever_.

(Well, the shop down the road did and she just put them in the oven to make it seem as if she made them).

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	17. Tinsel

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

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><p>XVII – 17th December<br>Dominique & Albus  
>tinsel; footsteps; leer; steel.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

Desolation.

Despair.

Desperation.

She's unable to see any other way out of this, unable to see a way for herself to be able to alleviate the growing pain without resorting to such drastic measures. It's impossible for her to go back to how things were before, because she did something awful.

She destroyed a _relationship_, made Albus think she was going to unconditionally love him so that he would leave Lindsay and be with her.

But she didn't _really_ want that, no, all she wanted was to be able to see what control she had over people, whether she, like Victoire, had inherited the indescribable pull that ensured all boys flocked to her.

She has.

Wretched doesn't even begin to cover the way she feels: she destroyed a perfect couple just to try and beat her sister, try and prove that she _is_ as good as the older, more darling Victoire.

(Only issue is that everybody hates her, even Albus)

Footsteps startle her as she half expects someone to be coming to try and stop her from tying the tinsel noose around her neck, someone who actually cares about her – because they can't _entirely_ hate her, can they?

As she thinks this, she remembers the expression on her Father's face when he found out what she'd done and that memory leaves her confident that nobody loves her.

At least it's shown her that nobody can be loved without condition.

Her steel heart gives way beneath her, the structure collapsing inwards as she entirely breaks. Before, she was merely fragmented, perhaps able to be healed, whereas now she has nothing to live for.

She doesn't even have the boy whose relationship she destroyed to try and help her.

And so she moves closer to the edge of the stairs and closes her eyes, wiping away the incessant tears because this is her _choice_. She leaves no note because who is _really_ going to care, she thinks bitterly.

And then she jumps.

She coughs and splutters as she jumps but then doesn't react, doesn't do anything.

And then she's gone, like flicking a button, she's gone because she thought she had nobody.

.

_He_ goes to see her that evening because it's Christmas and he does sort of love her, even though he knows she was merely using him as an experiment.

Albus walks in the door and shouts for Dom, shouts to see if she's around – which she will be, for where else will she be?

He turns the corner.

And he screams.

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	18. Sleigh

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

* * *

><p>XVIII – 18th December<br>Louis & Lysander  
>sleigh; stones; silk; gruesome<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

They both know that if they slip from the stepping stones across the gorge, if they loose their footing on the silk like rocks beneath their feet, they will fall to a gruesome, painful death, from which they cannot be saved.

Yet the fear of death isn't something to put these two boys off from their adventure, isn't something to alleviate the best friends Louis and Lysander from their end goal: to reach the top of the hill to find out whether or not there really _is_ a plot of land where Santa keeps his sleigh.

(They may be twelve and thirteen, but it's always possible).

Christmas is fast approaching and they're running to the end of the time where they're able to go exploring because if the legend is true, Santa will be getting his sleigh out to take the presents around the world soon.

Louis slips slightly, teeters on the edge, but he doesn't fall. No, he doesn't fall because he has Lysander there beside him, there to help him up to the top of the hill. They're best friends through thick and thin – and this ice isn't thin – and as Louis grabs onto Lysander, he realises that he trusts him with his life.

They continue on their way up the hill as darkness begins to fall, Lysander pulling a nargle operated torch out of his bag and handing it to Louis as they navigate up towards the peak.

Somewhere down below, their mothers are calling them in for dinner. Somewhere down below, their fathers will know what they are doing and will refuse to go on a rescue mission to find them.

Because up here, there's the potential for everything. Up here, with the stars, they can find everything they're looking for, things that those at the bottom cannot find.

And whether this includes Santa's sleigh or not, Louis thinks as he keeps close to his best friend, he doesn't care.

~x~

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><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	19. Magic

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

_For Vitzy because she's leaving me and I'm her Lysander to her Lorcan._

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><p>XIX – 19th December<br>LucyLorcan  
>magic; luck; drowning; panic.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

They dance a mysterious path of luck and magic, dancing in swirling patterns that leave others trembling in their wake. It's mysterious and unique, a beautiful motion of complete trust as Lorcan lifts Lucy up at a breakneck speed.

They leave others drowning in the depths of fear, of panic, as they race away to their own special place, a place where her feathered mask can rise from her face, just as his can be ripped off.

It's their special place where his hands lace into her blonde hair and her legs wrap around him; it's their special place where they're alone and the feeling is indescribable; it's their special place where they should be shivering because they're outside and it's snowing, but they're not because they have each other.

It's their special place where his lips _finally_ press down on hers, the final piece in the most magical Christmas dance of all.

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	20. Wrapping Paper

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

* * *

><p>XX – 20th December<br>Scorpius  
>wrapping paper; hatred; to you; crouch.<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

When he looks in the mirror and sees a piece of wrapping paper stuck to his head, that's the final straw. The final straw in a day of absolute mayhem, a day that makes him realise that the hatred he has for children _has not disappeared_!

It was all ok for Rose to agree to baby-sit Poppy, Victoire and Teddy's daughter, _sure_, but when she went out, who was left with the baby? Oh yes, Scorpius.

Things went alright at first, sure; he crouched down in front of the kid – she _is_ a pretty cure baby, after all – and there was a game of peekaboo, as well as "from me, to you" that he heard Rose talking about. Things were going smoothly.

That is until the presents Scorpius was wrapping for Rose came on show to the baby…who was older than he thought, since she stood up and ran straight for the chocolates in the box.

"MINE!" she screeched at him, the memory still running through his mind now, and the attack of the child was neigh.

He's managed to block most of it out now, but the glue gun's remnants on his body remind him that he is _never_ going near a child again.

Not if he can help it.

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	21. Angel

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

* * *

><p>XXI – 21st December<br>FrediiRose  
>angel; forlorn; breathing; close<p>

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><p>~x~<p>

Snow angels plague his dreams again, bittersweet memories of their childhood together close to the forefront of his mind as he remembers when things were so simple between them. He can recall a time when it was Fred and Rose against the world, when he would look out for her when there was those who wanted to hurt her.

(Or even just their more boisterous cousins, since she was always shier than the rest.)

Snapshot memories of her red hair mingled with his as they sat together on Christmas Day every year, of her coming to _him_ when she wanted help, of her forlorn expression always becoming that of a smile when she leaves him, hit his brain as he slumbers in a fitful sleep.

He thought she would be his, that she would realise that he fell in love with her so many years ago.

But she's in love with Scorpius now, bringing _him_ home for Christmas and allowing _his_ blond hair to mix with her red locks, and it's more than painful for the boy left to merely have his gunpowder memories, flammable and explosive as they trickle out of his reach.

As one day, he'll move on…but today's not the day.

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	22. Christmas Tree

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

* * *

><p>XXII – 22nd December<br>VictoireTeddy  
>Christmas tree; sunshine; shard; uppercut<p>

* * *

><p>~x~<p>

As the Christmas tree falls, so does everything else: the sunshine dims into the dank oppression of grey; the glassware slips from its place on the table next to the tree and shatters into shards; the presents beneath the once upright tree scatter around the room, making it ever messier.

When the crystal star upon the tree falls, it fragments into thousands of tiny, crystallised pieces that cover the floor: an icing sugar upon a dark, oppressing substance.

"VIC!" he cries out her name, throwing the butter dish to a side as he runs to the side of the fallen redhead, skids along the glass on his knees to reach her. "Oh god, no, Vic," he moans, lifting her head out of the way of the sharp edges, her nose bleeding as if she's just been uppercut.

Her body is limp, lifeless as he pulls her into him – it wasn't supposed to _happen_ yet, they were supposed to have at least until next year before the angels snatch her from him…

…evidently fate has a nasty way of acting, since she's dead on Christmas Day, her heart having given in prematurely from the cancer.

He cradles her in his arms, sobbing into her hair as the room dulls further, destroyed the only way to describe it.

His heart is like the star, decimated beyond repair as his eyes open to look at her slightly open lips, her eyes open to show wide, staring, sky blue eyes.

Dead.

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	23. Star

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

* * *

><p>XXIII – 23rd December<br>Jamesii & Mollyii  
>Star; boring; moonshine; threshold<p>

* * *

><p>~x~<p>

"James!" Molly calls, her voice whining ever so slightly. "I'm _bored_; are you _done_ with this stupid game yet?" she trudges around the garden, straining her eyes to try and find the hiding boy who is definitely winning their game of hide and seek. She's wasting her entire Christmas Eve playing this game, just because _he_ wanted to play it - the "I'm older than you card" was definitely played!

With only the light of the stars in the sky above them, she's barely able to see and it's getting boring, just wandering around as she attempts to find him.

When there's still no answer, she decides to give in, crossing the threshold of their Grandparent's house to warm up – it's _freezing_ outside!

And what does she find as she goes to sit down at the table?

James already sitting there, a smug smile on his face.

"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN IN HERE?" Molly can't help but scream, instigating a stern look from her namesake.

"Uh, for about three hours," he shrugs, taking another piece of cake onto his plate. "I called on you for _ages_, Molly. You really need to listen more."

With this, she almost throttles him.

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	24. Festivity

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

* * *

><p>XXIV – 24th December<br>Albus  
>Festivity; moment; crushed; nail<p>

* * *

><p>~x~<p>

The festivity of the day is lost as he observes his blood encrusted nails. Just the sight of these symbols of what happened earlier is enough to have everything that he's consumed and hasn't managed to be thrown up yet brought back through his throat.

Because Christmas Day is the day that changed his life within a moment, the day that used to be filled with happiness for him as a little boy.

Not now, not since he went back to his parents' house to visit them on this special day to find his mother dead and his father on his way because an intruder broke in when they slept.

And no matter _how_ hard he tried to save his father, by stemming the blood flow, by screaming for help, nobody came. No James, no Lily, _nobody_ who could help him as he watched the man who raised him die before his eyes.

As he watched those same green eyes as his close for the final time, a sense of finality set over him. A feeling so strong that he _knows_, as he sits here with his brother and sister, will never fade.

_He_ was the one to find them. _He_ could have saved them.

(He thinks.)

~x~

* * *

><p><em>Don't favalert without reviewing please & thanks._

_Vicky xx_


	25. Presents

_For the Oh Christmas Tree 25 drabble collection on NGF_

_Last one. Thank you all for reading!_

* * *

><p>XXV – 25th December<br>LorcanRoxanne  
>Presents; jaunting; rage; dance<p>

* * *

><p>~x~<p>

The jaunting from her so called _boyfriend_ sends Roxanne into a rage instantly, there being no dance with the loss of her temper – it's gone straight away, his jibes about the quality of her presents to him pissing her off.

"You mean to say," she growls through gritted teeth, "that the presents _I spent weeks picking for you_, aren't acceptable because they're from the _heart_, not just the most expensive things I could buy?"

Rising to the challenge, he stands and nods. "I could get this shit from my parents, Roxanne; I don't need you to buy me a nargle detector _that my Mum invented_!"

Her Weasley temper ignited, she stands strong against him. "Well, you said that you'd broke yours, so I bought you a new one!"

"I DON'T NEED ANOTHER ONE!" like a spoilt child, Lorcan yells back to try and get his point across.

And then Roxanne's temper gives way to her rational side, the side of her saying that they've been wrong for ages, that she needs to do what she's been saying she's going to do for years.

"I think we're done here," she says softly. "I can't do this anymore, Lorc. Stuff your presents and stuff _you_, as if you're more concerned about the material side of things than the thought, then I can't be with you."

With that, she walks out the door without another word, leaving him stunned.

~x~

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_Vicky xx_


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